ran out the door, and because Jason had left the front door ajar, Bear ran right out that, as well, on his way to freedom.
“Damn it,” Jason said, taking off after him.
Melissa went, too, knowing she had no more patients, and that the small-town atmosphere meant she didn’t have to worry about leaving the place unattended for a few minutes. Directly behind the converted house lay a wooded area, beyond which was a river and more wide-open space.
Naturally this was where Bear was headed, hot on the trail of a squirrel or whatever had caught his fancy. As they ran after him, Melissa was grateful for her daily torturous run she took in the mornings before heading into work, and couldn’t help but notice that Jason ran with ease, as well, that long, leanly muscled body working like a well-honed machine.
She forced her eyes straight ahead, and on Bear, whom they caught up with when he treed his squirrel and sat at the base of the trunk barking his head off.
Jason bent for his leash, and gave the dog a long-suffering look. “Buddy, the less energy expelled on any given day, the better.” When Melissa laughed at that, he cocked a brow. “You don’t agree?”
There was a path that she knew wound its way along the narrow river, and by silent agreement, they started walking. “You act like you’re so lazy, but I just ran alongside you flat out for a quarter of a mile and your breathing hardly changed at all.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Maybe I’m just in decent shape.” He turned to face her, halting their walk. Shaded by an oak tree, listening to the river run, watching him watch her, it occurred to her she was smiling. For no special reason other than he made her want to smile. His hand settled at the crook of her elbow and she didn’t shrug him off.
“Just because I talk slow,” he said, with a grin, “doesn’t mean I move slow.”
She realized his other hand had come up and made itself at home on her hip. A lock of his hair had fallen over his forehead, and before she even realized what she meant to do, she stroked it out of his face. Her fingers came in contact with his warm, tanned skin, then the pale ridge of his long, jagged scar. She lightly ran one finger down—
“Don’t.” Lifting a hand, he pulled hers away.
“I’m sorry.” She might not know much about relating to another human being, other than for the most basic of needs, but here, finally, was something she could understand. She was good at healing, good at dealing with pain and suffering, though it wasn’t pain in his eyes but embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, and lifted her free hand to touch him once more, wanting him to be soothed at her touch as an animal would. “I hate to think of how much agony this must have cost you, and not too long ago, given the texture of the skin and the degree to which it still has to heal. Are you using anything to reduce the scarring?”
He let out a shaky laugh, and dropped his forehead to hers. “Melissa.” Another low, rather mirthless laugh. “I don’t know what to do with you.”
“How about talk to me?”
He lifted his head and searched her gaze, she had no idea for what, but he must have found what he was looking for, because he nodded. “Yeah, I’m using something the doctor gave me for the scarring.” He was quiet a moment, then told her the rest. “I was coming home late one night about six months ago. I’d taken a trip for some research, and the flight home had been long and exhausting, the drive up from LAX even more so. I think I was half-asleep when Bambi darted out in front of me.
“I didn’t want to kill it so I swerved. My first mistake. I wrapped both myself and the car around an oak tree, and because I’d removed my seat belt about a moment before to reach into the back for a soda—my second mistake—I took my second flight that day. Right out of the car and into the air, and smack into another oak tree.”
“My God.”
“Well, I didn’t exactly meet God, but I did see a bright light. When I woke up three days later, I was told I would have died before I’d even gotten to the hospital if it hadn’t been for one